
f 


IN THE MESHES; 

OR, 

A DROP OF BOSTON BLUE BLOOD. 


By W. R. THAYER. 


ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. W. KENT. 


FROM THE HARVARD LAMPOON. 



CAMBRIDGE: 
CHARLES W. SEVER, 
Bnitattg bookstore. 

1881. 


23 188 ’ 

No 
■F'or 


OB - 2 - 775"3 



7 - ^ 


Copyright , 1881 , 

By Charles W. Sever. 


University Press: 

John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 






TO THE IBIS. 


9 


0 



CONTENTS. 


Chapter Page 

I. In which the Hero is Introduced .... 7 

II. In which the Hero rises late 14 

III. In which the Marquis dines out 19 

IV. In which the Meshes begin to encircle the 

Marquis 25 

V. In which Jealousy tries to break the Web 30 

VI. In which Feminine Tears prove Efficacious 36 

VII. In which the Marquis takes Newport by 

Storm 40 

VIII. In which Cupid wins the Day 45 

IX. In which there is an Anticlimax and an 

End 51 









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IN THE MESHES 


CHAPTER I. 


IN WHICH THE HERO IS INTRODUCED. 


R. MAYFLOWER 
SPEEDWELL was 
sitting in an easy- 
chair in one of the 
bow-windows of the 
Somerset Club. It 
was four in the 
afternoon, and Mr. 
Speedwell was look- 
ing over the last 
number of Punch. 
He was the very 
essence of an aris- 
tocratic gentleman. 
His age verged on 
fifty. His hair, which had already disappeared from 
the crown of his head, was of reddish tint, plentifully 




MAYFLOWER SPEEDWELL AT THE SOMERSET CLUB. 


In the Meshes. 


9 


sprinkled with gray. His whiskers, carefully combed 
out on either side of his face, suggested the typical 
whiskers of the Briton. His cheeks were somewhat 
puffed and i^uddy, mayhap with the bracing air of 
Boston, mayhap with the port and madeira of the 
Club cellar. A double chin was already more than a 
possibility in Mr. Speedwell’s development. The rest 
of his countenance was not particularly noteworthy, 
and this added to his general aristocratic air. His 
clothes were large and faultlessly in style, but withal 
could not be called comely. 

As he read, with a monocle wedged into the cavity 
of his right eye, he seemed very uncomfortable ; in- 
deed, one or two young Club men of a later generation 
hinted that Mr. S. wore the glass for show, and really 
used his left eye for reading ; but this is immaterial. 
Mr. S., unlike most of his countrymen, found the dis- 
mal jokes in Punch remarkably amusing. He even 
was known to laugh over them as immoderately as 
was consistent with his aristocratical breeding. But 
the Club cynics unkindly hinted that he did not under- 
stand them, an insinuation pronounced to be calumny 
by those who knew him best. If Mr. Speedwell did 
not know English manners and customs to the very 
core, who could do so ? Had he not made the famous 
season of 1867 in company with his bosom friend, 


IO 


In the Meshes. 


Lord Fiddle Faddle ? Had he not shot stags in Scot- 
land with the Duke of Roxburgh, and landed trout 
in Skye with Prince Leopold ? And as for Devon- 
shire, and the Fens, and the Isle of Wight, who had 
more racy personal adventures to relate about them 
all than he ? 

Mr. Speedwell languidly dropped Punch on the 
floor, — a smile, caused by that doosid fine caricature 
of “ Dizzy,” lighting up his affable countenance, — 
took a cheroot from a Russia leather cigar-case, and 
called to the waiter for a light. He had taken a few 
puffs from the Manila weed, when two gentlemen 
approached him. 

The elder, a man of forty, spoke a few hurried 
words to him in an undertone, and then aloud he in- 
troduced “Lord Playthenave — Mr. Mayflower Speed- 
well.” The latter gentleman had already risen from 
his chair. He now moved forward and affably 
stretched out his hand to his lordship. 

“ I am really delighted to make your lordship’s 
acquaintance,” quoth he, in an accent allowed to be 
correctly English — by all who had never heard a real 
Briton speak. 

“ Ah, really you are too good,” replied the distin- 
guished visitor. “You fellers in the States are the 
most ’ospitable set I ever saw. And as for Boston, 


In the Meshes. 


1 1 

gad, I never was as well received in Lunnun, amongst 
my own people, as I ’ave been ’ere.” 

Mr. Speedwell’s face was aglow with pleasure. The 
sound of the pure English accent was as cheering to 
him as it must have been to Robinson Crusoe the first 
time he heard it after twenty years’ solitude on Juan 
Fernandez. 

Chairs were drawn around a little table, wine was 
brought, and the three gentlemen engaged in a highly 
interesting conversation. 

“You have not been here long, I presume?” in- 
quired Mr. Speedwell. 

“ Oh dear, no ; I landed this morning by the Cu- 
narder. We ’ad a doosid rough passage for this time 
of year. One ’ardly hexpects to meet hicebergs in 
May, you know ; and as for whales, they did nothing 
but foller us hover the ’ole way. I got into a trap 
with my luggage and drove to the ‘ Brunswick,’ where 
I find things comfortable enough ; but, would you 
believe it, those careless porters quite ruined my ’at- 
bath in carrying it hup stairs.” 

“Ah, your lordship,” replied Mr. Speedwell, in a 
conciliatory tone, “you will indeed find the service 
in this country wretched ; we have nothing to com- 
pare with the excellent system in the United King- 
dom. But how is it in London this season, — gay and 
delightful, I have no doubt ? ” 


12 


In the Meshes. 


“Yes, we ’ave ’ad more or less jollity. Wales gave 
a very fine levee, which I hattended, — Wales and I 
are great cronies, you know, — and there was also a 
rout at the Duchess of Slopshire’s. The hopera, they 
said, was fine, — I don’t care much for music myself; 
and the trotting meets at Hepsom were hespecially 
crowded.” 

“Trotting at Epsom?” inquired the third gentleman 
of the party, who had hitherto been a listener to the 
conversation, occupied in quaffing madeira in that 
familiar and important way which at once stamps the 
true wine connoisseur. “ Trotting at Epsom ? ” he re- 
peated. “ Why, I thought all the races there were 
running races.” 

“Oh, no, Leverett, by no means,” broke in Mr. 
Speedwell, whose innate respect for the truthfulness 
of the English nobility now thrust him forward as Lord 
Playthenave’s corroborator ; “ I certainly remember in 
the spring of ’72 seeing a very fair exhibition of trot- 
ting there, though, to tell you the truth, I much prefer 
our old English custom of running.” 

It was quite pardonable in Mr. S. to emphasize the 
“ our ” a trifle, for who was more thoroughly English 
in heart, mind, dress, and aspiration, than he ? You 
could not help feeling that it was his misfortune, and 
not his fault, that he could not claim an Englishman’s 
birthright as well. 


In the Meshes . 


13 


Mr. Leverett, finding that he could not compete 
with the gentlemen before him in the present topics, 
resumed his office of wine-taster with extreme good 
grace. In that, at least, he was at home, and like a 
truly wise man he contented himself with being pro- 
ficient in his chosen profession. His lordship and 
Mr. Speedwell continued their conversation in much 
the same style as has been shown above, — the former 
fairly loading his sentences with the names of the 
noble persons who were not merely his acquaintances, 
but his bosom friends and relations ; the latter recall- 
ing, as far as he could, the scenes and persons whom 
he had met in his frequent trips to London. Several 
other gentlemen joined the circle, and listened eagerly 
to the words of the noble visitor with the respect that 
was due to them. 

Finally, Mr. Leverett, who had introduced Lord 
Playthenave to the Club, and put him up there, pro- 
posed a game of billiards, to which the latter gracefully 
acquiesced. Mr. Speedwell graciously shook his hand 
and bowed him from the room, hoping, at the same 
time, to have the pleasure of seeing his “dear friend 
on many other occasions.” Then he turned to the 
library, took Burke’s “ Peerage ” from the shelves, and 
turned over the leaves till he found there on page 378 : 
“Playthenave, Marquis: family of Sussex; created Earl 


14 In the Meshes. 

by Henry II. ; Marquis by Richard III., 1484.” And 
a little farther down : “ Philip Adolphus Fitz-Eustace 
Rodomont, 19th Marquis.” 

“Bravo!” he exclaimed involuntarily; and one or 
two who happened to be in the Club at that time say 
that it was sublime to see how he appeared to be ten 
times the man after that pleasing discovery that he 
was before. 


CHAPTER II. 


IN WHICH THE HERO RISES LATE. 

N the next morning, 
Philip Adolphus Fitz- 
Eustace Rodomont, 
Lord Playthenave, 
awoke from his slum- 
ber at the reasonable 
hour of eleven. And 
why not “ the reason- 
able hour ” ? Does 
not the day-laborer 
crawl from his cot 
before daybreak, drag 
on his patched clothes, partake of a slim breakfast, 
and trudge through the damp morning air, dinner-pail 
in hand, to his toil ? Does not the tradesman rise at 
seven, and the portly banker at eight ? Surely, then, 
a real live marquis owes it to his rank to bide in his 
couch at least three hours longer than the common 



1 6 


In the Meshes . 


herd ; and the reader will find, if he has not made the 
discovery already, that Lord Playthenave was far too 
fine a gentleman to commit any breach of etiquette 
in this respect. # 

His lordship performed the usual contortions of a 
person just awaking from a heavy sleep. He first 
opened one eye ; then yawned ; then opened both 
eyes, and stretched himself. Almost involuntarily his 
hand rested upon his forehead, which was throbbing 
lustily. 

“ Confound that port,” he murmured to himself. 
His lordship was by. no means in a pleasant humor, 
and he called out in a peevish tone, “Tagg! Tagg, I 
say ! Come in ’ere, you dog ! ” The person thus re- 
ferred to stalked into the chamber, pulled aside the 
bed-curtains, and remarked in a familiar way, “How’s 
yer ’ead ? Don’t scold me because you’re hunder the 
weather. I did n’t get you tipsy.” 

“Who did, then?” inquired the marquis, less 
sulkily. 

“ I don’t know. It was three when you came ’ome, 
which I am sure I could n’t ’elp. I put you to bed. 
Will you get up now ? ” 

“Yes,” replied the victim of club port, trying to 
arrange in his mind, in a connected form, the scenes 
of the previous afternoon and evening. Tagg helped 


In the Meshes. 


1 7 

him from the bed, and left him holding on to the back 
of a chair while he rang for a bottle of Apollinaris. 
A marquis in his nightgown, with bleared eyes and 
tumbled hair, and something very like a bristly shadow 
encircling his chin, is not a venerable sight, and we 
will hurry him into his fashionable clothes as quickly 
as possible. Even Queen Victoria herself would be 
taken at a disadvantage if seen in dressing-gown and 
curl-papers. 

Mr. Tagg performed the office of valet to his lord- 
ship in a masterly manner. He was a short, stout 
little man, with bullet head and watery-blue eyes. 
He had spent a large part of his life as attorney’s 
clerk, until this more distinguished and lucrative em- 
ployment had fallen in his way. His manner with 
his master was very familiar, probably because, as the 
old proverb expresses it, “ No one is a hero to his 
valet.” 

Let us look at the marquis, our hero, — for of 
course he is to be the hero of this brief romance, — 
as he is sitting before the glass while Tagg combs 
his hair. His lordship is very tall and thin. A 
large beaked nose seems to have usurped more than 
its share of his face, and to have quite dwarfed the 
forehead, which is low and receding. His mouth is 
masked behind an enormous black mustache which 



\ 




THE MARQUIS. 


In the Meshes. 


19 


arches down to his chin and ends fn two sharp points 
resembling waxed rat-tails. The monotony of an 
abnormally long neck is gracefully broken by a prom- 
inent Adam’s-apple. His eyes are mud-colored, and 
at the present moment half closed. 

“A little more red stuff there,” says his lordship, 
pointing with his finger to his right cheek ; and Tagg 
artistically rubs on the rouge , hiding, as far as pos- 
sible, the paleness that is lurking there. It would 
not be proper for the nineteenth scion of a noble 
English family to go among his American cousins 
without some traces of the proverbial red cheeks of 
his countrymen. 

Finally he is dressed to suit his aristocratic taste. 
The bottle of Apollinaris has been drunk, and has 
performed its goodly office of pacifier, and the marquis 
turns to open two or three letters that are lying on 
the table. The first is written on glossy paper ; the 
envelope bears a crest and a complicated scroll, which 
a clever guesser might have interpreted “ M. S.” 
With Tagg’s aid the marquis discovered that it con- 
tained an. invitation to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Speed- 
well on the following Thursday. “The hold duffer 
has been pretty quick,” remarked Playthenave, with 
an attempted smile. “We’ve no other hengagements 
for Thursday, have we, Tagg?” 


20 


In the Meshes. 


“ Not as I know hof,” rejoins the latter, who takes 
a paper-covered volume entitled “The Fashionable 
Letter-Writer,” from a drawer, and forthwith indites 
an acceptance in a bold, clerkly hand. 


CHAPTER III. 


IN WHICH THE MARQUIS DINES OUT. 


N especially good spirits 
was Mr. Speedwell on 
the following Thurs- 
day evening, when 
about seven o’clock 
he paced up and down 


waiting eagerly for the 
arrival of his guest. 
The door-bell gave a 
loud ring, and Mr. S. 
carefully peered out into the entry, only to find that 
it had been a beggar asking alms. 

“What a fool I am,” he mused ; “of course his lord- 
ship would not have rung in so vulgar a manner.” 

Two or three other persons set him upon a like 
tiptoe of expectation, but they proved to be the news- 


the library of his 
Beacon Street house, 






MRS. SPEEDWELL, — THE MOTHER OSTRICH. 




In the Meshes. 


2 3 


paper carrier, and a stupid confectioner’s boy, who 
should have known better than to ring at the front 
door. 

Finally, the august guest himself was ushered in. 
The butler was particularly assiduous in helping him 
to remove his wraps, and in leading him to the draw- 
ing-room. Then he went to announce the arrival to 
Mr. Speedwell, whom he found bending over the key- 
hole, his face beaming at the sight of the marquis. 

A moment later, Mr. Speedwell was shaking his 
guest warmly by the hand, and hoping that his lord- 
ship was quite well, while the butler, Jeames (his 
real name was Patrick, but Jeames was much more 
euphonious), was returning to the pantry muttering 
to himself, “Where have I seen that feller’s face 
before ? ” 

Presently there was heard the rustling and crack- 
ling of a silk dress, and the far from light, though 
stately, tread of a lady descending the stairs. A 
shadow fell across the threshold of the drawing-room 
door, and Mrs. Speedwell entered, accompanied by a 
tall and rather handsome girl. 

As when the mother ostrich, on the red sands of 
Sahara, walks, with head erect and neck upright and 
haughty gait, surveying from sublime height, with 
maternal pride, the young bird that follows her, the 


24 


In the Meshes. 


beholder clearly feels that he is in the presence of 
the mistress of the domain, — such was the entrance 
of Mrs. Speedwell and her daughter. And if we can 
conceive of a giraffe being introduced to the majestic 
bird at this point, the comparison might not inaptly 
apply to Lord Playthenave, who, though taller in 
stature than the lady, was far inferior to her in that 
indefinite quality known as “ presence.” 

I have somewhere seen a picture of the landing 
of the Pilgrim Fathers, in which the Puritan ladies 
are represented in decolletees dresses and long trains, 
about to leap upon the icy crags of Plymouth. The 
men are standing stolidly by, with halberds and large 
ruffs and small-crown hats, looking doubtingly at the 
surf. As the painting is by one of our first artists, I 
do not dare to criticise its historical accuracy ; but 
I allude to it as a proof that even in those early times 
the mother-stock of our people were as dauntless and 
as conspicuous for their good taste in dress as they 
are to-day. Mrs. Speedwell was just the woman 
whom you could imagine might have jumped into a 
pinnace in evening dress, and pulled for the shore, 
regardless of snow and cold, distancing all her com- 
panions in the “ Mayflower.” Indeed, the marquis 
learned several times during the evening that both 
her ancestors and her husband’s were passengers 


In the Meshes. 


25 


on that famous vessel, — in what capacity he was not 
told, — and he remarked to Tagg, on returning to his 
hotel, that the “ * Mayflower ’ must ’ave been bigger 
than the ‘ Great Heastern,’ for all Boston came hover 
hin ’er.” 

But there was no stiffness visible in the reception 
that the marquis received here. He was pressed 
with questions about his numerous friends, and was 
forced to repeat that really ridiculously funny in- 
cident about the Prince of Wales and the sponge- 
cake, which he had seen with his own eyes. His 
stronghold in conversation lay in dogs and horses ; 
but Mrs. Speedwell, for this evening at least, was 
amiably interested in that noblest of animals, the 
horse, and her daughter was a passionate admirer of 
dogs, especially pugs. 

The dinner was sumptuous and appropriate. Large 
joints, Yorkshire pudding, and tarts were served in 
profusion, to remind his lordship of the generous 
banquets that the mother-country is wont to spread 
before her children. The Queen’s health was duti- 
fully drunk, and his lordship gracefully responded, 
that he should “make it ’is first dooty on returning 
’ome to hinform ’Er Majesty of the cordial welcome 
he ’ad received in the States.” 

Miss Speedwell sighed audibly, and looked across 


26 


In the Meshes . 


the table with* languid eyes at the marquis opposite. 
“ Ah, how I envy you ! ” she said fervently. “ How 
I envy you, who will return to that great and noble 
kingdom ! There, one is appreciated; there, birth and 
education win the respect, the recognition, that is 
their due. How / should like to go to England!” 

Mrs. Speedwell, who was watching, with all a 
mothers anxiety, the impression her daughter was 
producing on the marquis, thought she saw a blush 
mantling the latter’s cheeks ; at any rate, he cast 
down his eyes and looked sheepish, — more sheepish 
than usual. Silence at this point certainly was a 
good symptom, and when a little later Playthenave 
accidentally touched Miss Agatha’s foot under the 
table, and begged her pardon, the two parents ex- 
changed one of those meaning looks, which volumes 
cannot describe. 

After the ladies had left the table, Mr. Speedwell 
whispered to Jeames, who presently brought a de- 
canter, and filled the gentlemen’s glasses. 

“ This, I flatter myself,” quoth the host, “ is a wine 
that will please your lordship.” 

“ Yes, that is doosid fine ’Ock, you know,” replied 
the latter, draining his glass at one gulp, — “ doosid 
fine.” Mr. Speedwell looked up chagrined. To have 
his cobwebby 1824 Madeira called hock was indeed 


In the Meshes . 


27 


a blow ; but he was so good-natured that he could 
not take offence, and he charitably attributed the 
mistake to a slip of the tongue. 

The remainder of the evening was pleasantly passed 
in the drawing-room. Miss Agatha carried on a long 
and one-sided conversation, with the guest, and the 
old people sat and watched her success. When the 
time came for Playthenave to go, he was pressed to 
favor the humble Speedwell dwelling with his pres- 
ence frequently, and he had no reason to doubt the 
sincerity of the invitation. 


CHAPTER IV. 


IN WHICH THE MESHES BEGIN TO ENCIRCLE THE 
MARQUIS. 

ON’T you think, my 
dear,” remarked Mr. 
Speedwell to his wife, 
when they had retired, 
“that the marquis was 
really captivated with 
our daughter ? ” 

“And, indeed, why 
should n’t he be, Mr. 
S. ? ” replied his bet- 
ter half. “ I detest snobs, and am sure that Agatha is 
fit to be any lord’s wife — ” 

“Hush, my dear, you insist on going ahead too 
fast.” 

“ And you, Mr. S., are continually underrating our 
position. Surely my daughter may aspire to the 
highest alliance in the world.” 

No doubt, at that very moment, the young lady in 



vv '. w.iC 


MISS SPEEDWELL. 

FROM A CAMEO FORMERLY OWNED BY THE MARQUIS. 



3 ° 


In the Meshes . 


question was lulling herself to sleep with dreams of 
levees at Carlton House, with herself the admired of 
all beholders, and of a coronet, and a carriage with a 
real crest on it (her father’s carriage had a crest and 
coronet, of course, but some persons in this wretchedly 
republican country would insist that such insignia 
were hardly in keeping with our boasted principles of 
equality). No doubt Miss Agatha felt confident that 
by her natural feminine talent for coquetry, and by 
the judicious guidance of her more experienced mam- 
ma, Lord Playthenave must unavoidably fall into the 
meshes that were being woven around him. And yet 
there was always the weariness of suspense to be 
endured. And he, meanwhile, on his return to the 
“Brunswick,” expressed himself fully satisfied with 
his evening’s work. 

“ You ’d ’ardly believe it, Tagg, but, dull as I am, I 
kept the hold folks and the girl laughing the ’ole 
hevening. They heven said I was too hawfully clever 
for anything.” 

“ They can’t ’ave seen much ’umor,” replied Tagg, 
as usual, in a surly tone. “ But go in and win, now 
you ’ve got a chance, and remember your promise.” 

His lordship looked as though the reference to 
this promise had cast a chill upon him. His voice 
quavered a little as he answered, “ Now don’t always 


In the Meshes. 


3i 


hallude to that Hof course I ’ll keep my word, but 
let bygones be bygones.” 

It is not to be supposed that Lord Playthenave 
was received only by the Speedwells, for that was far 
from being the case. His friend Leverett, to whom 
he had brought letters of introduction, and by whom 
he was put up at the Club, was quite as assiduous 
as any one in showing him attention. Invitations 
poured in from many and very opposite quarters. 
Elderly club gentlemen, who spent most of their time 
looking out of the windows upon the trees that were 
donning their foliage in the Common ; politicians, 
who were brimful with news from Washington, and 
who regarded the ministry at the Court of St. James 
as the summum bonum of life ; journalists, who by 
their pens were carving out a reputation ; and literary 
and artistic magnates, — all fell before the feet of the 
distinguished visitor. He, at least, could not say 
that Boston was inhospitable and unappreciative ; for, 
varied as were his hosts, they all acknowledged that 
he was the very essence of wit and refinement 
Naturally enough, mothers with marriageable 
daughters were among the most numerous of bis 
entertainers. Not, of course, that they expected that 
their daughters would fall in love with him, but they 


32 


In the Meshes . 


thought it would be well for them to see a thorough 
English gentleman, and enjoy the refining influence 
of his acquaintance. 

Mrs. Speedwell, we may be sure, was too clever a 
woman of the world not to fear that his lordship’s 
inclinations might be led away from Agatha amid all 
this excitement. Men are fickle, as she had assured 
Mr. Speedwell a thousand times ; and she was par- 
ticularly careful to get accurate accounts of the mar- 
quis’s behavior at the places he visited. Although 
all her information tended to allay rather than to 
arouse suspicion, she still felt insecure, and, like a 
skilful general who feels assured of his own supe- 
riority, she determined to bring about an engagement 
as speedily as possible. 

Mr. Speedwell, too, disliked to feel that he had 
competitors for the good graces of Playthenave. He 
had been the first to receive him ; he had shaved 
his whiskers, and was now growing a mustache, to 
imitate his lordship; he even dropped an “h” 
occasionally, as if to show how readily he fell in 
with the language of the nobility. Now, there were 
others emulating him in imitating this common 
model. There were others who had learned his lord- 
ship’s anecdotes, and were vying with him in re- 
peating them. This was unbearable : Mayflower 


In the Meshes. 


33 


Speedwell, like Julius Caesar, could not be second in 
Rome. 

So Mrs. Speedwell and her husband — the sexes 
were usually named in this order by those who knew 
them best — consulted together about the best means 
of accomplishing their desired aims, and the result 
was soon made known to the fashionable world in 
an item in a Sunday paper : “ We learn on the best 
authority that Lord Playthenave will be the guest 
of Mayflower Speedwell, Esq., at his Newport villa, 
where the latter gentleman will repair with his beau- 
tiful wife and daughter next week.” 

But before this plan was carried out, his lordship 
had several important experiences, which must now 
be laid before the reader. 


t 


CHAPTER V. 


IN WHICH JEALOUSY TRIES TO BREAK THE WEB. 

GATHA SPEEDWELLhad 
an acquaintance, — or rath- 
er, in young ladies’ parlance, 
“a dear friend,” — Miss As- 
pasia Standish. The Stand- 
ishes were on quite as good 
a social plane as the Speed- 
wells, but their bank account 
was small. Nevertheless, 
they did not aspire to lead 
society by the mere charms 
of filthy lucre. Not they. They were passionately 
fond of art, — of the Fine Arts in their most aesthetic 
ramifications, — and were the recognized heads of 
a very select and accomplished circle. Mr. Rococo 
Standish, the first of the family, was well advanced 
in middle life ; and although he had never painted 
a picture, he had acquired great reputation as an 




MISS ASPASIA STANDISH, — THE INTENSE! 


36 


In the Meshes . 


art connoisseur . Every one in his coterie was con- 
vinced that if Standish had condescended to use 
his brush, he must have inevitably risen above all 
the other masters of his time. Mrs. Standish centred 
her hopes in Aspasia, interspersed her conversations 
with a great number of French and Italian phrases, 
and often alluded to her long sojourn abroad. Miss 
Aspasia, for her part, was thrilled by the transcen- 
dental beauties of Pre-raphaelitism. Select evening 
parties — on “ intellectual symposia,” as they were 
called by those who attended them — took place once 
a month at Mr. Standish’s dwelling, and to one of 
these the marquis was invited. 

The company that was assembled that evening was 
a remarkable one, — indeed, as Mrs. Standish mod- 
estly confided to Playthenave, none but paragons 
<T esprit were to be met with at her soirees. When he 
entered the drawing-room, which was chastely devoid 
of luxurious furniture, and painted in faded greens 
and browns (“soul tints,” as Miss Aspasia called 
them), he interrupted a song that a thin, sharp-nosed 
lady was playing at the piano. The piece was one of 
Chopin s ; and after all the guests had been presented 
to the “ distinguished visitor and patron of art,” the 
lady proceeded. Who can describe the wonderful 
gymnastic feats that she performed on the instru- 


In the Meshes. 


37 


ment ? You must unavoidably have thought that 
she was a Fury attacking a mortal enemy. One, two, 
three, and even four octaves were dashed over like 
lightning. A tremendous blow called forth a bellow 
from the bass note, and then, for a moment, it seemed 
as though the monster were silenced. The treble 
warbled a few humiliated tones, as if surrendering 
to superior force ; and then suddenly the bass was 
attacked with redoubled vigor. How she hurried up 
and down the scale ! How her crab-like fingers 
pranced and glided and thumped over the keys ! 
What cause could the patient instrument ever have 
given her for such a display of wrath ? How many 
years of practice with dumb-bells did it take to put 
such strength in her thin, bony arms ? And yet, 
when the end came, and the piano was fairly anni- 
hilated, she arose, apparently the most unconcerned 
and unfatigued of mortals. 

“ Rapturous melodies ! ” exclaimed an inane young 
man, with snub nose and large mouth, who had been 
turning the leaves for the performer. 

“ A sublime adagio that ! ” chimed in Mrs. Stand- 
ish, who came forward to compliment the heroine of 
the moment. “ It reminds one of the grand tout - 
ensemble of a Gothic ditomo” 

“ Yes, Chopin certainly knew how to arouse those 


38 


In the Meshes . 


iridescent vibrations of harmony, that lie dormant in 
the recesses of the soul,” added Mr. Twaddle, who 
was the philosopher par excellence of the coterie. 

Meanwhile Miss Aspasia had been paying the 
marquis a great deal of attention. Their conversation 
was unintentionally amusing, as may be gathered from 
one or two short quotations. 

“ Don’t you adore Dante ?” asked the young lady. 

“ I never hate any,” responded the marquis in 
sober earnest. “Is that a local dish, like your Boston 
baked beans ? ” 

“Oh no, Dante was a great master of poetry, the 
Homer of Italy, the Apollo of — ” 

“ Oh yes, I remember Hapollo won the ‘ Hoaks ’ 
three seasons ago. Fine, brown stallion.” 

Miss Aspasia took no notice of the slight blunder. 
She was either too well-bred, or too far above the 
clouds at this moment, to descend to such trivial 
matters. She was bent on making a convert of the 
marquis to Pre-raphaelitism. A less ardent prose- 
lyter than herself would have despaired at the re- 
peated rebuffs she received from the latter’s ignorance. 
He knew nothing of Giotto, or gargoyles, or Ruskin, 
or Turner’s “Slave Ship”; and he thought that by 
William Morris she meant Billy Morris, the famous 
Manchester “pet,” who fought sixty-three rounds with 


In the Meshes . 


39 


the “ Sheffield Chicken.” Still she persevered. She 
was sure that if his fortunes were allied to those of 
some whole-souled, aesthetic woman, he too would 
develop a love for the Beautiful. In an ante-room 
she showed him a picture, illuminated by many jets 
of gas, of a carrot and a string of onions, placed in a 
common earthen jug. “That,” she exclaimed, “is 
the climax of art ! How thankful we should be to 
the master spirit who has here revealed to us this 
ideal of perfectibility ! ” 

The marquis said nothing, but he thought of those 
colored prints of hunting-scenes, where all the men 
are in scarlet jackets, and all the ladies in beavers. 
Then Aspasia deftly referred to her dear friend, 
Miss Speedwell, deploring her love of the vanities 
of the world, and her ignorance of pure intellectuality. 
She was sure his lordship appreciated the sublime 
too much to be fascinated by such paltry tinsel ; she 
was certain that he could never be happy with a 
wife who could not satisfy his aspirations' after the 
abysmal blisses of Truth. Then she looked at him 
with those cerulean eyes of hers, and began to think 
that she had made a convert. And then she led him 
back to the drawing-room, where a young man with 
long hair was reading an ode to Villon. 

When the guests had departed, her mother clasped 


40 


In the Meshes . 


her to her bosom, exclaiming that she had always said 
the tlite of England were the most sympatiques and 
appreciative gentlemen in the world. And her father 
patted her on the head, and called her lovingly his 
little marchioness. 


CHAPTER VI. 


IN WHICH FEMININE TEARS PROVE EFFICACIOUS. 


P to the present moment I 
have merely narrated the 
chief incidents in Lord 
Playthenave’s sojourn at 
Boston, but I have abstained 
from passing comment 
upon ttrem ; for my inten- 
tion is to relate the facts, 
and not to criticise them. 
I leave it for my readers to 
discover upon what princi- 
ples of human nature the marquis’s popularity with 
the elite was based. For my own part I never could 
regard him as anything but an illiterate bore ; but 
since the Speedwells and the Leveretts and the 
Standishes, and hosts of others, were unremitting in 
their attention to him, I presume that my estimate of 
his character was a wrong one. Of course, all these 




42 


In the Meshes . 


distinguished children of a free and enlightened coun- 
try could not have been attracted to Playthenave 
from the mere fact that he was a marquis : to im- 
pute such a motive to their actions would be unkind, 
if not presumptuous. 

Mrs. Speedwell was vexed at the reception Playthe- 
nave had met with from the Standishes. One of 
those good friends of the world at large, who spend 
their time in retailing news, had given her a full ac- 
count of the symposium, not forgetting to lay great 
stress on the interest that the marquis had manifested 
in Miss Standish’s Pre-raphaelitism ; and Mrs. Speed- 
well was once more stretched upon the rack of sus- 
pense. Of course a nobleman of Playthenave’s line- 
age would bestow his hand and heart irrespective of 
monetary considerations, for had he not often men- 
tioned that he should never marry for money, as he 
had already quite enough revenue, from his Sussex 
manors ? And was he not especially earnest in de- 
nouncing the actions of some of his countrymen, who 
come to America to hunt up heiresses ? In her per- 
plexity and vexation Mrs. Speedwell, like the truly 
affectionate mother that she was, vented her spleen 
upon Agatha. 

“It is all your fault, miss!” she scolded. “You, 
who have a fine education, fine manners and personal 


In the Meshes. 


43 


attractions, allow yourself to be eclipsed by that 
mawkish doll, Aspasia Standish. Whom am I work- 
ing for but for you ? Have you not told me a hun- 
dred times that you could never be happy with any 
man but the marquis ? And after I try my best to 
further your welfare, you disappoint me utterly.” 

“ But, mamma, I assure you,” interposed Agatha 
meekly, “ I have done everything that I could. I 
have flattered the marquis — as you told me ; I have 
learned all the sporting terms and the names of all 
the winning horses, and I have given him a great 
many — many opportunities to — to propose — but — ” 
here the young lady burst into tears, and the conver- 
sation was interrupted by the servant, who announced 
that his lordship was in the drawing-room. 

Five minutes later, Miss Speedwell descended, with 
her eyes still red and swollen, her mother having as- 
sured her that, unless he was a heartless monster, it 
would help matters for him to see her unhappy. And 
so it did. Playthenave had never been more genial 
than on that day, and when Agatha begged him to 
write some verses in her album, he kindly consented. 

“You write a beautiful hand,” said she, “ as I know 
from that first note you sent in answer to the invita- 
tion to dinner.” 

“ Yas, really it’s quite necessary for us at ’ome to 


44 


In the Meshes. 


write well, don’t you know ? ” he replied, internally 
reflecting that all his correspondence had been done 
by Tagg. 

He took the album with him, promising to return it 
on the following day, when they were to meet to start 
for Newport. 


CHAPTER VII. 


IN WHICH THE MARQUIS TAKES NEWPORT BY STORM. 

O have seen Tagg and the 
marquis working over the 
poem that was to grace Miss 
Speedwell’s book would 
have afforded a great deal 
of amusement. Neither of 
l^hese gentlemen had had 
any experience in verse- 
making, and their attempts 
at rhyme and metre would 
have put the smallest school- 
boy to shame. At last, after having had recourse to 
rhymed advertisements in the newspapers and to the 
vocabulary in some hunting ballads with which the 
marquis was familiar, they evolved the following, which 
was duly written in Tagg’s most clerkly hand : — 

TO THE UNKNOWN. 



The horse that wins the Derby day, 
And pants beside the goal, 



46 


In the Meshes . 


Is not more pleasing to my eyes 
Than her whose praise I ’ve told. 

* She is as stately as a queen, 

Her virtues are as many ; 

Until her features I had seen, 

No maiden loved I any. 

But if I thought she did n’t love, 

Or heard it from her tongue, 

I ’d go and die in some vast waste, 

And there throw up the sponge. 

“ Ah, how sweet ! ” whispered the young lady, for 
whom these verses were written, to their author, as 
they were hurrying in the train towards Newport on 
the morrow. 

“ Pray, who is it that has captivated you thus ? ” 
The marquis looked modest, and simpered; Agatha 
blushed ; Mr. and Mrs. Speedwell exchanged knowing 
glances. 

“ I think it is all right now, mamma,” Agatha said 
in an undertone a little later, leaning over to her 
mother. 

“That’s a dear, good, obedient child,” replied the 
maternal ostrich, smiling on her fledgling. 

Newport society was at its height when the arrival 
of the Speedwells and their noble guest became 


In the Meshes. 


47 


known. Lawn tennis, polo, yachting, and parties 
succeeded each other with such rapidity that the most 
persistent seeker after pleasure could not hope to en- 
joy them all. And yet, with that cosmopolitan polite- 
ness which is distinctive of the great watering-place, 
society redoubled its efforts to show due respect to 
the new-comer. To be sure, Newport already boasted 
of a French count and a German baron, and one or 
two ambassadors ; but a real English marquis was as 
conspicuous an object for attention as any of them. 
So Playthenave was dined and wined ; he was asked 
to award the magnificent cup won in the last race ; 
he was pressed to have a run with the hounds after 
an imaginary fox; he was one of the judges in the 
polo match, and he was bowed to from all the four- 
in-hands on the Avenue. And yet, notwithstanding 
these distinctions, he bore his popularity with true 
modesty. People would have been rather pleased 
than otherwise if he had shown some conceit at his 
success, but he accepted his position with a stolidity 
that would have done credit to an early Christian 
martyr. Only mothers who had aspirations for their 
daughters- declared that the marquis must be pre- 
occupied, — his affections must be already engaged ; 
and they looked at Miss Speedwell with spiteful 
glances that one might cast upon a Clytemnaestra. 


4 8 


In the Meshes . 


Still, their attentions were unremitted, and after ten 
days of continuous entertaining, the marquis re- 
marked, that “ heven in Lunnun he ’ad n’t ’ad a jollier 
time of it.” 

The frowns had already left Mrs. Speedwell’s ala- 
baster brow ; she was condescendingly polite to every 
one. Agatha was happy and smiling. Mayflower 
Speedwell was delighted to be — what he had never 
been before — the most sought after of all the fre- 
quenters of the Casino. But alarm once more spread 
itself into their household when the report that the 
Standishes would arrive in town at the end of the 
week, was verified. 

“ Agatha,” said Mrs. S. sternly, after she had made 
sure of the truth of the news, “ you must bring mat- 
ters to a climax, — and at once ! ” There was no 
mistaking the meaning of this injunction ; the Duke 
of Wellington could not have been more firm and de- 
termined at Waterloo. 

The next day there was to be a lawn-party at the 
Mt. Desert-Newportes, and the Speedwells were ot 
course invited. The Newportes were noted for their 
elegant entertainments, and although they were 
looked down upon socially by a great many people, 
no one refused their hospitality. It is one of the 
cosmopolitan rules of etiquette never to refuse the 


In the Meshes. 


49 


invitation of a man who has the best champagne in 
town, — even if he happens to have been a California 
gold-digger, and to wear a large diamond pin in his 
bosom. Besides, .the younger Newporte generation 
were pleasant people, — the son and heir being espe- 
cially prominent in playing polo, while his sisters were 
reputed the best horsewomen in the city. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


IN WHICH CUPID WINS THE DAY. 

N the morrow came a 
beautiful July day. 
Cloudless blue sky, a 
dim haze over the 
water, studded with 
white sails, and a faint 
breeze that just rippled 
through the foliage, — 
left nothing to be de- 
sired. The Newporte 
villa was gorgeously 
decorated, the walks were carefully trimmed, the grass 
was fresh and green from frequent sprinkling. The 
old millionaire received his guests in a free and easy 
manner, shaking them all cordially by the hand, and 
bidding them enjoy themselves. A beautiful sight it 
was to see the lawns and walks, sloping gracefully 
towards the cliffs, decked with ladies in Parisian gar- 



In the Meshes. 


5i 


ments, and gentlemen languidly paying them atten- 
tions. The low murmurs of the waves below, the 
occasional ringing laugh of some young girl, the noise- 
less gliding of the solemn waiters, laden with silver 
salvers and wines and ices, and the music stealing 
from an orchestra hidden in a copse, — all combined 
to make a scene that a modern Watteau might revel 
in. 

In a little arbor, screened from observation, Agatha 
Speedwell was sitting with the marquis. The former 
seemed pensive and taciturn : the latter was in a pecu- 
liarly vivacious mood — for him. Miss Speedwell 
attempted several times to converse, but soon fell into 
silence. Playthenave smoked a cigar, as his compan- 
ion did not object (she never objected to anything he 
did), and kept time to the distant music by swaying 
his head. 

At last the young lady, looking down and playing 
with her fan, sighed. 

“ I ’ope you ’re not cold,” remarked the marquis. 

“Oh no, Adolphus — your lordship, I mean,” she 
replied, with repeated sighs, “ I was thinking how 
unhappy I am. How wretched any girl is who is 
thwarted in — in love. My parents insist that I must 
marry an American, while my heart is already con- 
quered by — by one of your countrymen ! ” 


5 2 


In the Meshes . 


“ And who is he ? ” asked Playthenave. 

“I cannot tell — it must be a secret till my dying 
day ; for he would not have me if I asked — ” 

“ Do you — do you mean me ? ” exclaimed his lord- 
ship, suddenly awakening to a conviction that the 
moment had arrived for the realization of all his 
hopes. 

Agatha blushed and whispered, “ Yes, will you ac- 
cept me ? ” 

Let us draw the veil over the sacredness of this 
scene, for who could adequately depict such tender- 
ness, such passion. 

Before the party had dispersed that evening it was 
whispered abroad that Miss Speedwell was formally 
engaged to the marquis, and her fears that her par- 
ents would not permit the match were groundless. 
Strangely enough, it was also hinted that the young 
lady herself, in utter disregard of the time-worn cus- 
tom, had made the proposal ; but this, as the reader 
who has heard the conversation will acknowledge, 
must have been calumny, originating with some dis- 
appointed mamma or daughter. 

Agatha’s parents expressed great surprise and sat- 
isfaction when they were officially informed of the 
suit. 

“ Ah me ! how sly you men are,” quotH Mrs. Speed- 


In the Meshes . 


53 


well, with a twinkle in her eyes. “And who would 
ever have thought that you were really passionately in 
love with my dear daughter ! And how cruel of you 
to rob me of her, too ! You are heartless wretches to 
steal away our only comfort in this way. However, I 
shall try to forgive you, Adolphus.” 

“ But, mamma, I am sure you didn’t think papa so 
cruel when he stole your affections,” artfully inter- 
posed Agatha, pressing her adorer’s hand. 

It will be unnecessary to dwell in detail upon the 
preparations that were at once set on foot for the 
young couple’s marriage. The marquis was good 
enough to leave everything to the discretion of his 
future bride’s parents, only insisting that the cere- 
mony should take place as speedily as possible. If 
he had had more time, he would have liked to send to 
England to have his brother and the Duke of Damp- 
shire come over to be at the wedding ; but even this 
pleasure he was willing to deny himself, so eager was 
he not to have the happy day delayed. In a conversa- 
tion between him and Mr. Speedwell he learned that 
Miss Agatha’s portion would be about fifteen thousand 
a year during the lifetime of her parents, after which 
she would become sole heiress to the Speedwell es- 
tate. “ Like the true gentleman that he is,” Mr. S. 
remarked to his wife, “ the marquis expressed himself 


I 



TAGG, — THE VILLAIN. 








In the Meshes. 


55 


completely satisfied with this outlook, and declared 
that if the young lady had been penniless, it would 
have made no difference in his affection.” 

So the marriage preparations were hastened with 
all due speed. Milliners, lace-makers, dress-makers, 
and an army of lesser female artisans were mustered 
into the service ; presents flowed in from all sides, 
and engagemerlt-dinners were forced down the young 
people’s throats to satiety. Every one was happy in 
the large circle of friends and acquaintances except- 
ing Tagg. The faithful valet, ever since the evening 
when he had learned the amount of Agatha’s dowry, 
had been surly and discontented. Poor, honest Tagg ! 
he undoubtedly was grieved to have his master throw 
himself away on any woman. Just before the wed- 
ding it was rumored that he and Playthenave had in- 
dulged in an altercation, and that the latter had dis- 
charged his valet, but had reconsidered and apologized. 
People will circulate such odd stories, even about a 
marquis ! As though, forsooth, Tagg was of enough 
importance at this crisis to be quarrelled with or con- 
ciliated! 

The time arrived for the marriage. The ceremony 
was carried out with fitting magnificence ; the bride 
looked lovely and wore orange-blossoms ; the groom 
was handsome and stately ; Mrs. Speedwell buried her 


5 6 


In the Meshes . 


face in her handkerchief, and performed the customary 
task of all mothers at weddings, of weeping, without 
tears ; Mayflower Speedwell was sublime. Then all 
Newport attended the reception, and ate, and gos- 
sipped, and kissed the bride, and the young men, as 
is en rtgle now, drank too much champagne. Every 
one was merry, and almost every one regretted that 
such weddings as this did not come oftener. 

And in the evening the bridal company drove to 
see the pair safely on board of the New York steamer, 
after slippers had been thrown and the health of the 
marchioness had been drunk. Only one person was 
absent from all this festivity, and that was Tagg. The 
steamer moved away from the pier, and started on its 
voyage into the darkness, and the happy pair had said 
the last good-by, — but still no Tagg. Where could 
he be ? 


CHAPTER IX. 


IN WHICH THERE IS AN ANTICLIMAX AND AN END. 



WAS a dark, cheerless morn- 
ing. Mist drizzling in leaden 
sheets, covering everything 
with cold clammy moisture. 
The Newport steamer looms 
up through the wet, and 
sullenly draws up to its 
wharf. Three men, with 
their overcoats buttoned up 


to the chin, and their hats dripping, stand near the 
gangway, evidently waiting for some one. 

“That’s them,” whispers the shortest of the three 
to his companions, as Lord Playthenave emerges 
from the cabin, with his wife hanging upon his arm, 
and prepares to go on shore. Scarcely has his foot 
touched the planking before one of the harpies has 
taken his right arm, and muttered in an undertone, 
“It’s all up ; we’ve got you now. You had better 
come along quietly.” 


58 


In the Meshes. 


Playthenave’s usually expressionless face instantly 
wore a look of despair, quickly followed by an expres- 
sion of feigned incredulity and bravado. “ Let me 
pass, man ! ” he exclaimed. " Your hinsolence would 
be chastised if this lady were not ’ere.” 

The second detective and Tagg — for Tagg it was 
— had already confronted him. “It’s no use, Jen- 
kins. Don’t resist, it will only place the marchioness 
in a disagreeable hattitude,” said he, with mock pity. 
Agatha was already alarmed. Playthenave made one 
more attempt at intimidation, and demanded what 
grounds “ these ’ounds ’ad for harresting ’im.” “ We ’ve 
the warrant here,” replied the first detective, feeling in 
his pocket. The crowd had by this time collected, 
and was passing ironical remarks upon the unlucky 
bridegroom. Agatha clung closer to her husband, 
and the 'five were soon being rapidly driven in a closed 
carriage to the Tombs. 

There explanations followed that must have made 
the marchioness appreciate the truth of the trite say- 
ing, that “ titles are empty.” The Marquis of Play- 
thenave, or Edward Jenkins, as his name appeared on 
the police books, was arrested for forgery. He had 
spent the early part of his life as attendant on the 

Earl of C , and had accompanied this nobleman 

on his trip through the United States. Naturally 


In the Meshes. 


59 


shrewd, though ignorant, he conceived the not alto- 
gether original project of returning to this country 
disguised as a gentleman, and of entrapping some 
heiress. He grounded his hopes on the headlong 
manner in which most Americans rush for a title, — 
and with what success has been pointed out in this 
sketch. Tagg, a man of no more principle but more 
brains than himself, was his companion, and helped 
to keep up the disguise. All went well until Jenkins, 
when it came time to depart for Newport with the 
Speedwells, found himself wanting in ready money, 
and forged a check upon a New York bank. Tagg, 
who had been made a confidant of this crime, but who 
was not a participant in it, had divulged the secret on 
the very afternoon of the wedding, and the arrest 
which followed was the result. 

Such, in brief, were the charges against our hero. 
To describe the action of his wife when she became 
convinced of their truth, would savor too much of the 
melodramatic to suit this bare and unvarnished tale. 
She insisted, even after her husband had confessed, 
that there must be some mistake ; that her father 
would pay the amount of the forgery a thousand times 
over ; that Tagg was a liar and impostor. But most 
earnestly did she cling to the title of her husband, — 
she was sure that he was a marquis, whatever his 



EDWARD JENKINS,— IN HIS PRESENT RESIDENCE. 




In the Meshes . 


61 

faults might have been ; and when that last prop was 
taken from her, overcome by wounded pride, shame, 
and anger, she sank speechless into a chair. 

And Tagg, why had he been instrumental in caus- 
ing such an unpleasant after-marriage scene ? That, 
too, was soon made clear. When Playthenave learned 
the amount that his wife was to bring him, with all 
the greediness begotten by unexpected success, he re- 
fused to share the winnings with his valet. Threats, 
entreaties, and commands were alike futile, and when 
Tagg was told that he was to receive only five hun- 
dred pounds or nothing, he vowed revenge against his 
faithless companion. He had nothing to gain and 
nothing to lose by confessing, while he felt the pleas- 
ure that a vindictive spirit takes in gaining its end, 
even at the cost of its own liberty. 

So Jenkins — marquis no longer — was taken away 
to his cell, his just now affectionate bride having re- 
covered sufficiently to refuse him a parting kiss, which 
he asked for in a plaintive tone ; and Agatha was left 
in her distress to await the arrival of her father, and 
meditate on the vanity of human wishes and the per- 
fidy of men. 

We may be sure that the news of this startling 
event soon reached Newport. We can imagine, too, 
how Mr. Speedwell felt like those little wanton boys 


62 


In the Meshes. 


that Shakespeare speaks of ; and how Mrs. S. de- 
clared, between paroxysms of maternal grief, that she 
had always detested and suspected that man ; and 
how the kind friends who had but lately partaken, of 
the marriage meats, not yet cold, whispered to each 
other that they had always predicted that the haughty 
Speedwells would have a fall ; and how loving mam- 
mas were glad that their daughters knew a villain 
from a gentleman. These and similar remarks one 
expects to hear from the world, but I fancy that the 
very next English lord who comes over here will have 
just as many admirers, and mayhap as many victims, 
as Lord Playthenave. 

Human nature is easily disturbed on the surface, 
but remains unchanged below, and no doubt the day 
is yet far off when human trout shall cease to rise to 
gilded flies. 


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the Harvard Examinations for admission in Minimum Physics. By Merton S. Keith. 
Paper. 50 cents. 

TUFTS’S GEOGRAPHY. 

QUESTIONS ON MODERN AND PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 

TUFTS’S GREECE. 

QUESTIONS ON THE HISTORY AND GEOGRAPHY OF GREECE. 

TUFTS’S ROME. 

QUESTIONS ON THE HISTORY AND GEOGRAPHY OF ROME. Especially suited 
for Schools and Academies, and Students preparing for Harvard College. By J. F. Tufts, A.B. 
Paper. 25 cents each. 

HEDGE’S GERMAN PREPOSITIONS. 

GERMAN PREPOSITIONS. By Frederic H. Hedge, Harvard University. Paper. 25 cents. 

SHALER’S QUESTION GUID$ TO THE ENVIRONS OF BOSTON. 

QUESTION GUIDE TO THE ENVIRONS OF BOSTON. Designed for the use of Begin- 
ners in Geology in the Classes of Harvard University. Part I. Somerville and Cambridge. 
By Prof. N. S. Shaler, Harvard University. Paper. 25 cents. 

FOURTH ORATION OF ISOCRATES — PANEGYRIC. 

THE FOURTH ORATION OF ISOCRATES, called the Panegyric, as being addressed to 
the Universal Assembly of all Greece, exhorting the Grecians to concord, and undertaking 
jointly a war against the Persians. Translation. Paper. 50 cents. 

“An Artistic Gem.” 

KING’S HARVARD AND ITS SURROUNDINGS. 

HARVARD AND ITS SURROUNDINGS. By Moses King, of Harvard College, Cam- 
bridge, Mass. New Edition. Copiously illustrated with excellent Heliotypes, Engravings, and 
Etchings Square iamo. Crimson cloth, $1.50; paper, $1.00. 

SIBLEY’S HARVARD GRADUATES. 

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF GRADUATES OF THE ACADEMIC DEPART- 
MENT OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. By John Lang- 
don Sibley, A. M., Librarian. Cloth. 2 vols. $10.00. 

The object of the volume is to present, with great minuteness of detail, the results of more than a 
quarter of a century’s labor and research in collecting information respecting these representative men 
of their time, and, by adding catalogues and bibliographical notices of their writings, to open to others 
the way for further investigations. 

VERSES FROM THE HARVARD ADVOCATE. Cloth. $1.50. 

“ To the recent graduate these verses will recall much of the spirit of his college years, and to us 
elder graduates the volume will be precious as showing what our successors are thinking, dreaming, 
and doing.” — C ■ E. Norton. 

“ They cannot fail of doing credit to the literary skill and taste of the undergraduates of our col- 
lege.” — J. R- Lowell. 


Charles W. Sever s List of Books . 


LITTLE TIN GODS-ON-WHEELS ; 

Or, Society in our Modern Athens : A Trilogy after the manner of the Greek ; also Oxygen, a 
Mt. Desert Pastoral, from the Harvard Lampoon. Paper. 50 cents. 

Divided into Three Parts: The Wall Flowers; The Little Tin Gods-on-Wheels; The Chaperons. 
A broad burlesque of Boston society scenes. 

HARVARD MEMORIAL BIOGRAPHIES. Edited by T. W. Higginson. 

Two volumes- 8vo. $4.00. 

MEMOIR OF JARED SPARKS, LL.D. By George E. Ellis. With 

Portrait. 8vo. Cloth. $2.00. 


SCIENTIFIC BOOKS. 

ICONES MUSCORUM ; or, Figures and Descriptions of most of those Mosses 
peculiar to Eastern North America which have not been heretofore figured. By William S. 
Sullivant, LL.D. With Copperplates. 2 vols. Royal 8vo. Cloth. $25. 00. 

ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE OF THE MUSEUM OF COMPAR- 
ATIVE ZOOLOGY OF HARVARD COLLEGE. Published by order of the Legislature of 
Massachusetts. 

THE ANNALS OF THE OBSERVATORY OF HARVARD COL- 

LEGE. 

THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE AMERICAN ASSOCIATION FOR 

THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE. 

THE MATHEMATICAL MONTHLY. 1859 to 1862. 3 vols. 4to. $ 6.00 
REPORTS OF THE PEABODY MUSEUM- 


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